


80 Degree and Overcast

by OnTheSubject_of_the_Infinite



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Concerned!Himchan, Don't worry, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Introverted/Wary!Jongup, M/M, Minor plot, The two no-nos are mentioned in passing, Uneasy Allies to Friends, a little plot, implied future relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheSubject_of_the_Infinite/pseuds/OnTheSubject_of_the_Infinite
Summary: Himchan's got a nose for people in trouble and a soft-spot for the city's scattering of riff-raff youth. He used to be one, so it makes sense.Jongup is, technically, all of the above, but he's more interested in why the hell this weird dude he knows for afactis a drug dealer started bringing him food every morning. (And, yeah, it's kind of nice someone finally cares whether his bruises are from a cruel landlord's impatient boot or his own stupidity. There's that, too.)





	80 Degree and Overcast

**Author's Note:**

> A short ficlet borne from slightly-humid, extremely-stormy and clouded weather in late afternoon and that clip in the Hurricane MV of Himchan driving. Enjoy!

Jongup's the kid with a shaking orange pill bottle in his hoodie pocket and a knife in his hand. Himchan's the dealer with a fast car and dark sunglasses. Naturally, their first meeting is contentious. But Himchan's curious more than he is in need, and the vicious snarl Jongup aims his way is too endearing (and surprising) to let go.

It's a coffee one day, a bagel the next. Jongup's prickliness melts away at the sight of the steaming cup and pile of sugar packets, the massive chocolate chip monstrosity. _I heard you've got a sweet tooth. See y' next week, kid,_ Himchan smiles, turning back to his car and deals and minions like nothing happened. The blade stays sheathed next week; the week after the scrawny maybe-teen-maybe-twenty-something mumbles _Moon Jongup_ into his boots without having to be asked. Himchan contemplates continuing to call him 'kid' for kicks, but something delighted curls in his gut at being able to say the man's name as often as he wants now, so he takes the gift for what it is and uses it with purpose.

It's a name, and then it's a hello back, a soft, frightened _thank you_ that Himchan almost doesn't catch because he's headed to his car already. He makes sure to pause, though, and whisper a gentle _anytime, Uppie._

In no time, it's a quiet _hi, hyung_ when he rolls up, even a small little precious smile on warm and bright days. Himchan learns --frets-- that Jongup likes to bask in the sun by perching on fire escapes. The first day he gets out of his car to find the alley empty, he panics. In the next breath, however, Jongup lands beside him with a thud, sheepish but pleased. Himchan threatens him with broken bones if he breaks a bone.

He knows of the meds, but no specificities. Something about sensory overload and focus. He knows vaguely about the siblings and absentee parent, and even more distantly about the shit apartment, the even shittier landlord. He knows rage. Rage is when Jongup comes running, mottled by a bruise under his chin and bleeding tongue, breathless, to reassure him before he can think the worst. (Turns out the Moon picks fights when things are bleak and he needs a reminder he’s alive.) (Other times it’s entirely out of his control and neither of them are so chipper.)

Himchan knows fear: Jongup not being there every so often, not even when the older man waits for an hour. (Or two, or three, who's counting?) Jongup always returns within the week, a little rough for wear but with a tired, relieved smile when he spies the familiar sports car.

One day, he gets in before Himchan can step out, emboldened by something unnameable. _Hi, hyung. Where to?_

Himchan blinks, shades pushed into his hair, and then lets satisfaction curl his lip, restarting the engine. _Wherever you like, Jonguppie._

And maybe Himchan's been neglecting and delegating duties more than usual, so what? Maybe Jongup's hands don't shake constantly from fear and nerves and noise pollution. Maybe the best part of their day is shared over some weird western burger and fries and Jongup's laugh and Himchan's dry comments. Maybe, one day, they'll talk about something concrete and more permanent. --But for now, bathed in noon-thirty sunlight through a dirty window, there's nothing more perfect.


End file.
